Needle & Thread
by travln1
Summary: Written for cuddy fest at lj. Prompt: #91: House/Cuddy: Five times she stitched up House and one time he returned the favor. Huddy. Wilson's Heart spoilers. Thanks to my betas: Chippers87 & Wrytingtyme!
1. Chapter 1

**#1**

It was her third day as a newly minted doctor, working her first rotation in the ER. So far that day, she had diagnosed the flu, chicken pox and dressed a minor burn; Cuddy had to admit, she thought the ER would have been a little more exciting. She mindlessly grabbed the next patient file, briefly glanced at it, and perked up just a bit; at least stitches were a little more involved than diagnosing the flu.

As she approached curtain number three, she looked for any information indicating the cause of the accident and towards the bottom of the triage report, Cuddy found what she was looking for. Some idiot sliced his forearm open trying to take apart a lawnmower.

She pulled the curtain back and inhaled sharply at the man who sat clutching his bloodied arm. "Ah-ha, you're the idiot."

House rolled his eyes, "So you've been a doctor for what, all of two days?"

Frowning, Cuddy set up a suture tray, "Three, actually."

"Do you even know how to use a needle?"

Cuddy donned a look of uncertainty and tucked in her bottom lip. Mockingly, she said, "Gee, I don't know. Good thing I have a human pin cushion to practice on."

House stood, clutching his arm, "I want a real doctor"

"I am a real doctor."

"I mean one who's been a doctor for more than three days."

"This coming from a guy who took apart a lawnmower. I thought you were supposed to be some hotshot genius."

"I needed a part from the lawnmower to fix something else."

"And I suppose it never occurred to you that you might slice your fingers off? A lot of good that would have done, DOCTOR."

"Ouch, hey, watch it," House said, as she prepped the area to be sutured, "You _are_ going to numb it, right?"

"I don't think it's really necessary," she said with a wry smile.

"Like hell it's not."

"Oh shut up," she said, prepping the lidocaine injection.

"It's Cuddy, right?"

Cuddy cocked an eyebrow, shaking her head, "That's what it says on my name tag."

"Knew I saw that somewhere."

"Nevermind you dated my roommate for how long? A year?"

House shrugged, "She wasn't the one I was interested in."

Cuddy stopped cleaning the wound to look up at him intrepidly, "Oh really?"

He inhaled as she finished cleaning the gash, "Hey, watch it."

"Sorry, when was your last tetanus shot?"

"Last Friday."

Cuddy stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, "Well, that was lucky."

A corner of his mouth went up just a tad, along with an eyebrow, "Not really."

Cuddy readied the needle and positioned her hand above the gash, shaking slightly. "What do you mean not really?"

House pulled his pant leg up a bit, exposing his recently sutured ankle, "Lacrosse, slammed into the goal post and sliced it right open."

She looked up at him, hoping he wouldn't notice her hand shaking, "If you wanted to see me, you didn't have to keep injuring yourself until you wound up here on my shift."

House rolled his eyes, "You have done this before, right?" he asked, noting her shaking hand.

She exhaled nervously, "A few times."

"Where's my attending?" he asked, trying to hide the alarmed tone to his voice.

"Patient crashing in trauma bay two."

"Perfect," he said as he watched her angle the needle towards his skin. He tensed, anticipating the pain, "Wait, wait, wait. Here, like this."

House took the needle from her and showed her the first few stitches, "If you angle it too much, it'll be too taut. And make your stitches smaller and not so far from the edge. It'll reduce the scar size, like this." Cuddy nodded, grateful for his expert lesson.

"Alright, your turn," he said, passing the needle.

He watched as Cuddy stitched his hand with precise stitches, exactly as he had showed her, "That's it," he said with a hiss.

She tied it off and snipped the ends, "Okay, that's it."

He leaned forward and looked directly into her eyes, "So, you busy tomorrow night?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, I'm tempted to work tomorrow night just to see what idiotic injury you might come in with next."

"So, shouldn't you thank me?"

Knowing she should thank him for his patience in teaching her proper suturing technique, she quipped, "What for?"

"I can wait. You can thank me twice tomorrow night."

"Twice?"

"For the sutures and for the best sex you've ever had."


	2. Chapter 2

**#2**

She stood at the doorway, hand on her hip, head tilted to the side and a frown across her face. "You've got to be kidding me." Cuddy stared at the blood dripping from his shin. "You've been my employee for three whole hours and you need stitches? Honestly, if you wanted to see me, you should have just asked."

House rolled his eyes, "Just fix it so I can get out of here. I'd do it myself but the damn leg gets in the way."

Cuddy shook her head, and gently lifted House's right leg to prop it up on the exam table. He grimaced in pain, the infarction still all too recent a memory.

"And how on earth did you manage this?"

"Clinic patient didn't like the diagnosis I gave his kid. He kicked me."

"He kicked you?"

"Yeah, the jerk kicked a cripple in the shin."

Cuddy sat on a stool and wheeled it over to him. Almost mindlessly, after years of practice, she began to flush the gash, "What was the kid's diagnosis?"

"Syhpillis."

She looked up to meet his eyes, "How old was the kid?"

"Fourteen."

She looked at him disbelievingly, "Fourteen? Do you think he was being sexually abused?"

House shook his head, "Nope, he confessed to doing the nasty with his fourteen year old tramp of a girlfriend."

Cuddy shook her head, "They get younger and younger."

House emitted a fake chuckle, "Girlfriend's pregnant."

"Oh boy," Cuddy said, dismayed.

"So, do you remember how to do this Ms. Administrator? Seems it was a long time ago that I taught you how," he said teasingly, as he watched her begin to stitch the tear.

"You didn't teach me, you just showed me a better technique."

"For which you never said thanks."

Cuddy tied off the sutures, "Well, I've given you everything you asked for. You've got a team, a bigger office than any other department head, and a conference room all to yourself. Isn't that thanks enough?"

House leaned forward and grabbed her wrist before she could pull away, "You and I both know that wasn't to thank me for teaching you how to suture."

Cuddy leaned forward so that he could feel her breath on his ear as she gently placed her hand on his good thigh, petting him in long, teasing strokes. "And if you ever want me to _really_ thank you again," she said in a whispered voice as she traced his ear with her finger, "You're going to have to earn it."

Cuddy pushed away from the table, placed the suturing materials and gloves in a bin and walked out of the office, being sure to sway her hips slightly more than normal.


	3. Chapter 3

**#3**

"Dr. Cuddy."

She looked up from the mountain of paperwork, annoyed to find one of House's minions standing in front of her. "What has House done now? He's supposed to be working in the clinic. He doesn't even have a patient."

"Well, um," the girl fidgeted, "He's in the clinic."

"Oh, well good."

Cuddy noted the hint of a smile this young woman skillfully tried to mask, "No, actually. You see it's icy outside, and Dr. Kutner didn't mean to but he kind of…"

A flash of concern crossed Cuddy's face, "Did something happen to House?"

"He fell."

Cuddy stood from her chair, "Is he okay? What happened?"

Again, Cuddy detected something in this girl that seemed almost vindictive when she spoke about her fellow potential diagnostics department candidate, "Dr. Kutner was running late coming back from lunch. I guess he had to run home for something…"

"Could you please get to the point?" Cuddy asked, briskly walking out of her office.

"Well, he sort of bowled Dr. House down outside. He didn't mean it of course, he was running and slipped on the ice. Dr. House never saw him coming and his legs just got swept out from under him." The young blond woman went in for the kill, "You'd think he would try to be a bit more cautious around a man who walks with a cane."

"Where is he?"

"Exam room one. We brought him in as quickly as we could but he won't let us touch him now that he's awake."

Cuddy inhaled sharply, "He lost consciousness?"

The girl nodded, "Just briefly."

Cuddy stormed into the exam room to find seven or eight of the potential fellows crowded around House's bedside, each trying to get a look at the gash on his forehead. House was holding them off with his cane, swinging it somewhat wildly with one hand, while his other applied pressure to the wound. Kutner stood in the far corner, looking guilty and apologetic, and well out of the cane's striking distance.

"Out! Everybody out!" Cuddy demanded.

The fellows filed out of the exam room, save one. Kutner remained glued to the spot, seemingly unable to move.

"I'm s..sorry Dr. House, I didn't mean…"

"Out Dr. Kutner," Cuddy said firmly. She looked at House, "Did you fire him?"

House shook his head.

Cuddy held the door open for Kutner, "Seems you're a lucky man Dr. Kutner; you are, apparently, not fired so I suggest you go make yourself useful elsewhere in this hospital."

Kutner nodded as he left the room and Cuddy shut the door behind him. She turned her attention back to House, "You blacked out?"

"Apparently."

Normally she would have been annoyed by the fact that she had to, once again, stitch up this man. But not today. It was merely an accident and for once, it wasn't his fault. As always, regardless of how he injured himself, her heart ached just a bit for this man in front of her. She hated to see him in pain.

Slowly, she placed her hand on top of his, gently peeling it away, exposing the jagged and blood spattered skin beneath. She grimaced at the sight of it, knowing it had to hurt.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" She asked, still examing the wound just below the hairline. Cuddy lowered her gaze to meet his ice blue eyes in a locked stare.

"No."

"Your leg?"

"Just peachy," he replied tartly.

She held his chin with one hand, fully expecting him to flinch or pull away, as she flashed a penlight into his eyes with her other hand.

"What's today's date?"

"January third, two-thousand eight."

"Full name."

"I'm fine, Cuddy."

"Full. Name." She said more insistently.

"Gregory House, head of diagnostics at the gates of hell."

"Name of the blond pushy one out there who's determined to get Kutner fired?"

"CB."

She looked at him in confusion, "I don't think those are her initials."

"Cutthroat Bitch."

She raised her eyebrows, "Well, I can't say it doesn't suit her. Do you remember how this happened?"

He exhaled in a half chuckle, "Yeah. Mr. I-set-a-patient-on-fire-nearly-electrocuted-myself-and-now-tried-to-break-my potential-employer's-legs tackled me outside."

"Why haven't you fired him yet?" She asked, preparing to stitch his forehead.

House shrugged, "He's dedicated."

Not understading his logic, Cuddy shook her head in exasperation, as she made the first stitch. The two sat in silence as Cuddy focused on making her stitches uniform and precise, aiming to minimize any potential scarring. As she worked, she could hear his rthymic breathing, and it steadied her nerves.

"You know, I've told you before. If you really wanted to see me, you don't have to go to such lengths. My office is just down the hall."

"It's more exciting this way."

"So, your potential fellows weren't good enough to sew you up, huh?"

"They weren't trained by the best."

"Oh, and I was?"

"You still haven't thanked me."

"I'm sure any one of them could have competently handled your little boo boo," she said in a mocking voice.

House peered around her to ensure the door and blinds were closed tight, and then wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close. "Well, I wouldn't want any of them kissing my boo boo better."

Cuddy snipped the thread, as he held her close. Unable to contain her grin, she said, "Oh? I thought you said it didn't hurt anywhere else."

House pointed to his cheek, "I think it's bruised right here," he said with a devilish grin.

She rolled her eyes and leaned in, gently placing a quick peck on his cheek, "All better?"

"Mmm, but you missed this spot, right here." House pointed to the tip of his nose. Again, she kissed him.

"And one more spot," House said grinning like the Cheshire Cat, "Right here."

Cuddy removed her gloves and set the needle down. She laced her fingers in his hair at the back of his neck and she rested the other hand on his cheek, gently brushing her thumb just under his eye.

"Right here?" she asked, as she placed her lips on his. It was not merely a peck this time; she kissed him out of worry and relief, love and hate, frustration and excitement and above all else, desire.

Mid-kiss, he hummed, "Mmmhmm."


	4. Chapter 4

**#4**

"Hey, it's Wilson. Uh, I was wondering if you could stop by House's place on your way home?"

Cuddy stopped chewing her pen, sensing something was up, "Is everything all right?"

"Well, yes. Okay, it could be better," Wilson paused, "Actually, when you come, bring a suture kit."

"Oh god, what's he done now?"

"I sort of hit him."

"You were supposed to be miniature golfing. How did you manage to hit him?"

"I thought he was sitting on the bench and I took a swing without realizing he was standing behind me. I clubbed him. Literally."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

* * *

House sat on the couch, gripping his left shoulder as Wilson paced the living room floor; he sighed in guilty relief at the sight of Cuddy walking in through the front door.

"I brought two kits, I wasn't sure how bad it was," Cuddy said in complete physician mode. She walked straight to House, sat next to him on the couch, and took his pulse.

"I'll live."

Wilson stood off to the side with his hands on his hips, worried-friend expression ever present. "House, I told you we should have just gone straight to the hospital."

"Go home Wilson, before the nag shows up here. My arm's on fire as it is; I don't want face the fire-breathing dragon too."

"I don't have a car, remember?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "Here," she said, tossing him her keys, "Take mine. Just bring it to work tomorrow. Can Amber take you home tomorrow?"

"Sure, but what are you going to do?" Wilson looked between Cuddy and House, opened his mouth and then closed it, instantly thinking it was an impossibility. But then he saw it, just the faint echoes of a glimpse between his friend and his boss, and he smiled knowingly. "You're not going home are you?"

"What?" Cuddy asked as if shocked. "House can take me home. No, no, no. I'm not staying here tonight." Cuddy looked nervously at Wilson, "You don't think that we're…no, absolutely not."

Wilson nodded, not believing a word of it. "Okay, fine. Sorry about the arm, House. See you tomorrow."

She waved nervously, "Thanks, Wilson."

"Goodnight Cuddy. Goodnight House."

"'Night, Wilson" both said in unison.

Wilson smiled and stifled a chuckle, "Sleep tight," he said, shutting the door behind him.

Cuddy looked at House, "You don't think he knows?"

House cocked an eyebrow, "I'm sure he does."

She sighed, somewhat embarrassed as she retrieved a bowl of warm water and a cloth from the bathroom. "So, how bad is it?" she called out from the hallway.

House smiled furtively, "I never showed him the cut."

"Meaning?"

"Just a scratch."

Cuddy frowned, not knowing if he was telling the truth or not, "How many times do I have to tell you? All you have to do is call when you want to see me." She motioned towards his shoulder, "Let me see."

"I said it's fine."

"Uh-uh. I get to look, or I go home."

House stuck out his bottom lip like a child as he removed his blood-stained shirt, "It doesn't need to be stitched."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"What do think you are, a doctor or something?"

"Or something. Maybe a concerned girlfr…" she startled herself with the near admission. House grimaced not in pain, but from that frightening word.

After donning gloves, Cuddy lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt and got her first glimpse of the cut. It wasn't bad, and it really didn't need stitches. "Well, the bruise will be worse than that cut."

"Stitch it anyway."

She looked at him in confusion, "Why? I can just clean it and put a few butterfly strips on it. You'll live."

"Yeah, but Wilson's not going to let it go. He'll want to see it tomorrow and if it's not stitched up, he's going to know the real reason you were here eight minutes after he called. So, how fast were you driving anyway?"

She leaned down to inspect his arm before she began to clean the lie. "You said he already knows."

House shrugged, not wanting to verbally admit that he might be wrong.

"Fine, hold still."

"Stitches can wait," he said as he stood up.

Cuddy straighted, angled her head to the side and placed one hand on her hip, "Oh no. I'm not jumping into bed with you until it's at least bandaged."

"Killjoy."

"Just a minute."

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom."

"Now?"

"Trust me."

A few minutes later, Cuddy emerged from the bathroom, clad in a skimpy, trashy, ridiculously cheesy, white nurse's uniform, complete with pillbox hat. The top was cropped short, exposing her mid-section from below her navel to just under her bra line, and the skirt was reminisent of an extremely short, white tennis skirt, which very obviously exposed her panties should she so much as look to the left or the right. She leaned one hand on the wall, twirled her hair with the other and called his name.

He turned to look at her and she laughed at his wide-eyed expression, "Are you ready for your stitches?" she asked breathlessly. Cuddy felt absolutely ridiculous, but she knew the stupid outfit was a fantasy of his and the look on his face at that moment was worth every ounce of the humiliation she had to endure.

He nodded with his jaw drooping, "Yes, Nurse Cuddy. I'm ready for my shot now."

She began to stitch his arm, "He's not stupid, you know. I can get maybe two stitches in here, that's it."

"Oh, come on. I taught you better than that. Four at least. And you still haven't thanked me for your handiwork yet. It's been what? Nearly twenty years?"

"I can't believe you're begging for more stitches and for gratitude."

"I don't beg."

"Oh really?" She asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, "I can go take this little outfit off and change back into my work clothes."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

House reached up and tugged at the absurd bow on Cuddy's chest, "Well, what if I don't want you to take it off?"

"You can't always get what you want."

"Oh, but I will tonight," he smiled, and Cuddy swore she saw him blush almost imperceptibly when he said, "I nicked a pair of scrubs, Nurse Cuddy. Wanna play doctor?"

"I think I already am," she shook her head, smiling, "You're incorrigible."

"Yeah, but you secretly like it," he said, lifting an edge of her skirt.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow, "I have no idea why."

"I'll remind you exactly why, as soon as you're finished with that last stitch."


	5. Chapter 5

**#5**

She had shooed Wilson and Chase out. Cuddy was furious that they would go behind her back to do the procedure anyway. A seizure. Unbelievable. She was angry, not just angry in the I'll-get-over-it-once-I-cool-off kind of angry, but rather the furious-livid-pissed-off-rip-roaring-irate-ready-to-spit-nails kind of angry. But she felt something ripping at her heart even more than anger, and that was fear. Fear he wouldn't wake up, fear of never hearing his voice again, fear of him regaining consciousness as an empty-shell of a man, fear of losing him.

Cuddy sat in silence, re-suturing the fissure on his scalp, reopened by the seizure; the only sounds were the steady beep of the monitors and the drip-drip-drip of the vital fluids being pumped into his body.

Whispering as she worked, she talked to him, hoping beyond hope. "Hey, you better stick around, do you hear me?" She worked the stitches exactly as he had taught her so many years before, during a time when his biggest worry was whether or not his ex-girlfriend's roommate would be interested in him. She loved him then, though she hadn't known it yet.

"You did it. You gave him more time with Amber. You solved the puzzle. He's going to need you; you can't go yet," She said, more for herself than for him. She took her time with the stitches, not rushing, suturing his scalp closed to perfection. Cuddy couldn't help but wonder if he had told her the truth about how the patient's father had kicked his shin. Likely not. House had probably run his mouth off three hours into his new job, earning himself a set of stitches. She knew she'd loved him then, though she hadn't let him know it yet.

"Wherever you are, just know I'm here. I'm always here. I'm not going anywhere." Cuddy tied off the knot and admired her work, knowing he would be pleased with her flawless precision, though he would never verbally declare it. She smiled, reminiscing about the day Kutner treated House like a bowling lane full of pins, and House the strike earning bowling ball. The curmudgeonly doc didn't fire the man who literally knocked him out, instead choosing him as one of his three fellows. She knew from watching him with Kutner that House could be forgiving, and it was then that she realized he had likely forgiven her for his leg, though she hadn't yet forgiven herself.

"I'll wear that little nurse's outfit any time you want. Just wake up, that's all I ask." She ran her fingers lightly through his hair, sweeping the flyaway wisps away from his forehead. Never in all her life did she think she would dress up in a coy outfit for any man, and yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized she would do just about anything if it made him happy. It wasn't often she saw him truly happy, and his smile was golden. Cuddy sighed at the thought of his smile.

"You know, I never got to thank you for teaching me to how to suture. I refuse to thank someone who can't at least glare at me in response." Tears flowed freely now, as the fear crept its way back into the forefront of her thoughts. "And I never got to tell you something more important than that." She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "You are the most aggravatingly frustrating, devestatingly annoying, vicisiously intelligent, horribly brilliant non-boyfriend, because-he-won't-say-it, boyfriend I've ever had the pleasure of falling in love with."

She leaned in and ever so gently, brushed her lips across his, hoping he would wake to argue with her in playful banter, for many days to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**One Time He Returned the Favor**

He watched her flutter about the kitchen as he sat on the couch, unable to repress his smile. She was wearing her high heels, low cut blouse and tight skirt, her usual work attire with the addition of an apron on top. It was early in the morning and she was busy making breakfast. His smile broadened, as he wondered if he had a camera somewhere; there was some great blackmail potential nagging at House's twisted sense of right and wrong. He stood from the couch, unable to sit so far from her any longer and he stealthily made his way into the kitchen, silently creeping up behind Cuddy as she took hold of the empty coffee pot.

"So," House said, wrapping his arm around her middle.

Before he could say anything more, Cuddy shook in fear, not realizing he was behind her, much less close enough to touch her. The coffee pot fell, shattering at her feet, promptly slicing into her ankle; she cried out, more in surprise than in pain and she stared in cofusion at the blood now pooling on the floor.

"I'm bleeding," she said quietly, somewhat mystified by the crimson hue spilling from her foot. She looked up at him, somewhat dazed, as if everything was happening in slow motion. He stood rooted to the spot, still processing what had just happened. Going numb momentarily, he stared at her bleeding foot, perturbed by its horrible timing.

Snapping out his reverie, he said, "Guess we won't be having coffee this morning," as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Do you still have the second suture kit?" she called out after him.

House reappeared at the entryway to the kitchen, suture kit in hand, "Yep. Can you make it to the couch?"

"I think so."

"Here," he said, passing his cane to her.

Cuddy hop-limped out to the couch, using his cane, and propped her foot up on the coffee table as House pulled up the piano bench to sit down.

He placed his hand on her foot and began to exam her injury.

"House! Put gloves on."

"Why? Do you have an STD?"

Slightly taken aback, she said, "No. Put gloves on anyway."

He rolled his eyes, donned a pair of gloves and set to work. House numbed the affected area, removed the glass, flushed the wound, and began his trademark stitch.

"I guess I won't be going to work today."

"Not unless you want to borrow the crutches in the closet."

"No thanks."

"How convenient you managed to do this on my last day of sick leave."

"Yeah, I planned it all along," she said sarcastically.

"You know, if you really wanted to spend the day with me, you could have just asked," he said, mockingly. Cuddy smiled at him, savoring every moment, grateful he was around to tease her with her own words.

"So is this another lesson?" she asked, while watching him stitch her foot.

"No."

"No?"

"You had your one free lesson. I still haven't gotten my thanks for it."

She watched as House finished stitching her foot. The stitches were perfectly formed, precise, accurate. When he was finished, he pulled the gloves off, tossed them in the trash and cleaned up the mess before sitting next to her on the couch.

House ran his fingers through her hair and very nonchalantly said, "I heard you."

She looked at him in confusion, "I didn't say anything."

"What exactly is a non-boyfriend boyfriend?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

Cuddy angled her chin so that she could look up into his eyes as she rested her ear on his shoulder, "You heard me?"

"I'm here to glare at you in response," House said with a wry smile.

She lowered her chin and snuggled into his embrace, "I'm glad you're not dead."

He closed his eyes at her words, recalling the last words she had said that day, _You are the most aggravatingly frustrating, devestatingly annoying, vicisiously intelligent, horribly brilliant non-boyfriend, because-he-won't-say-it, boyfriend I've ever had the pleasure of falling in love with."_ And he remembered the gentle kiss, full of hope and want for him to be okay.

"No, I'm not dead." _Thanks to you,_ he thought.

"I would have fired you if you'd died." House knew she meant that she would have been lost without him. She would have been in the same position Wilson was in now and as he rested his chin on the top of her head, he was thankful he hadn't put her through that, too.

"You'd never fire me. You're hot for my bod."

Cuddy half-heartedly chuckled, "I should have said thank you years and years ago." She felt him pull her in close, just a bit. Cuddy held her breath, hoping he wouldn't bite back, or choose this moment to release his fiery, snarky tongue.

And much to Cuddy's surprise, he whispered, "You're welcome."


End file.
